


prompt: gun

by Raloire



Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 08:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21491272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raloire/pseuds/Raloire
Summary: He's caught off guard.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	prompt: gun

**Author's Note:**

> A scene from a tale untold.

“Drop your weapons.” 

They both have a clear shot of their targets. 

Staring down the blond at the end of his pistol, Jack’s hands tremble oh so slightly. His heart is a pipe fit to burst- he needs to diffuse this situation safely or he will die, he _ will _ die. He hadn’t expected to come face to face with Atlas. No, _ no, _with Fontaine so early after undoing his mental conditioning but here they were. 

Even without those verbal chains Jack is more than ready to kill. He’s _ made _to kill and god, does he know it. He’d stun him on the spot if he could but he’d already burnt through the last of his eve against that Big Daddy whose smoking, crumpled corpse lies a little further down the hall. And damn, Fontaine’s smug, shit-eating grin tells him that he knows it. The coward planned this. Or at the very least, the bugger saw the fight and knew he’d be vulnerable for a good amount of time afterwards. 

Jack’s hands are trembling but his aim was not designed to falter and he still has a clear shot of the man’s forehead. 

His trigger finger aches. There’s something deeper in his chest, beyond his programming, that’s crying out for blood but, it’s just that-

Atlas picked a better target. 

The little girl squirms, kicks and grits her teeth as the barrel of the gun is tapped against her forehead. “Drop your weapons,” he digs it into her cheek with an insidious smile, “would you kindly.” 

Grimacing, his pistol drops to the floor. 

“All of them.”

_ Bastard. _

Jack takes off his bag and gently places it down besides the gun, abandoning everything he has. (It’s not much: his camera, some loose ammo and a half eaten sandwich that was soggy when he found it.)

He discards the rest of his weapons into the pile, heistanting for just a moment as he drops his wrench but it's okay, it's going to be okay. He still has his hands, if he can just get close enough that will be all he needs. 

Kneeling down he pushes it all away to the right. Doesn’t so much as blink as he keeps his eyes trained on the conman leering down at him. 

Jack raises his hands cautiously above his head, “Let her go.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I was clearing out my folders the other day when I found this scene in a neat little folder bluntly titled "WIP: Bioshock".
> 
> I think I must have written this sometime in 2016 and to be frank, the rest of the notes I had for this story are borderline nonsensical. I was conflicted for a while about whether I should scrap the whole thing or continue it and I realised I have no idea what the core idea behind this story was going to be, nor where it was planning to go. 
> 
> But I liked this scene and decided to share it anyway.


End file.
